That was true.
“Yeah,” she said, “Logan went, too.”
“Did all of you leave?”
They were riding slowly through the light traffic.
“Well... you saw Sketch at work, right?”
“What about Logan?”
She frowned. “Why are you so interested in Logan?”
“Well, it’s just... I wondered if he was transgenic, too — ’cause that’s the only way he could stay in Terminal City, right? I mean, ordinaries get sick if they stay too long.”
“Well... you’re right about that. That’s why Max got us out of there — me and Sketch and Logan.”
“If she got you out, could you get me in, the same way?”
Something felt way whack about this to her. If this mouth-breather was a transgenic, why hadn’t Max or Alec ever pointed him out? And why in the hell was he so worried about the three ordinaries? Last, but not least, she reminded herself, was the fact that now he suddenly wanted to know the route she’d used to get in and out of Terminal City...
They were at another light.
“Look, Teddy,” she said slowly. “It’s not that I don’t trust you — it’s just that I need some kind of...”
“Proof,” he said. “I’ve been a human the whole time you’ve known me... with no sign of transgenic ability... then I start in with all these questions.”
She nodded, liking the fact that he got it so fast. “That’s a big bingo, Barney. Why don’t you whip up a little super somethin’ for me?”
“Can’t do it,” he said, almost sadly. “The drug — the Tryptophan you saw me taking earlier?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s an inhibitor. It works to keep my abilities from taking over my life.”
“That’s not how it affects Max...”
“We’re all different. You know what an X5 is? I’m not an X5. I’m more like Joshua.”
“You ain’t no dog boy.”
“No — and I can show you what I am, later... when the dose has worn off. But not now.”
“Works for me,” she said, suddenly nervous. “Look, I better get my shit in gear — Normal’ll fire my ass.”
“I want your help, Cindy.”
“Maybe we could hook up at Crash later, Benny, and when nobody’s lookin’, you could show me your stuff, then.”
“Sure.”
Original Cindy nodded at the guy and pedaled away.
That weirdo was way too interested in Max... Cindy felt like she’d nearly, if accidentally, betrayed her best friend. No way in freakin’ hell would she show that strange character — soul brother or not — the tunnel into Terminal City.
After pumping a few times, Original Cindy glanced back and he waved. She faked a smile and waved herself. Then, once she’d gone two blocks, she looked back again and he was gone.
She heaved a sigh of relief, the whole exchange with that kid having weirded her out completely. She made a mental note to call Sketch as soon as possible and warn him — right after she warned Max. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her cell phone.
Glancing to her left, she saw the kid riding easily right next to her. In her surprise, the phone slipped from her hand, crashed to the street, and shattered.
“Even on my meds,” he said calmly, “I still have my transgenic speed.”
Her mouth dropping open, Original Cindy veered right, trying to get away from the guy; but her wheel clipped a crack in the pavement and she went down hard, the bike tumbling over her, her head smacking hard off the pavement.
As things slowed and grew very quiet, she felt a dull throb in her head, the bike seeming to fly away from her unbidden, and she looked up to see the strangely unformed face of her fellow Jam Pony bike messenger, looking down at her just as her world turned colorless, then dark gray, then black.
“And it’s ‘Bobby,’ ” she heard him say, just before all consciousness left her. “For now, anyway...”
Less than forty-eight hours to negotiate a settlement before the tanks rolled in... and the residents of Terminal City weren’t any closer now than they’d been when the police followed them into the parking garage last week.
Sitting in the media center, exhaustion weighing her down like her bones were made of lead, Max rubbed a hand over her face and wondered what she and her mutant band could do to stave off a full-scale army invasion.
Dix and his crew sat arrayed around the monitors, the room quiet, almost funereal, as they went about their business. Rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers, Max pondered her missing friends.
Alec and Joshua remained incommunicado in Clemente’s custody, assuming the pair was still alive. Thinking back to her own hospital adventure — she’d been shot trying to save a kid’s life, only to have a nurse try to administer a prescription of poison — Max wondered if Ames White had gotten to them yet.
She knew Logan could find out what hospital they were in; but even so, the risks of a rescue would be great. If White had located them, Alec and Joshua might already be dead, or moved, or simply used as bait for a trap to lure her. And if Max left Terminal City to go break them out, she would break faith with Clemente and put everything and everyone at risk.
If the only risk were her safety, she’d already be on her way. But now she had to take into consideration the effects of her actions on others.
Damn leadership, anyway — a pair of handcuffs.
Mole strode in, dropped his shotgun on the table and lit a cigar. He shook out the match and sat down across the table from her. “You okay, kiddo?”
“Peachy. Anything going on out there?”
He shook his lizard head. “Ever see them old war movies? ‘Quiet — too quiet.’ ” He took a long drag on the cigar, then blew so much smoke out, it was like fog rolling in. “Cops ain’t movin’. They seem content to just wait for the big boys to get here with their tanks and shit.”
“Yeah — won’t be long now. The whole damn circus will be in town.”
“Our people, though...” His voice trailed off ominously.
“What?” she asked, sitting up.
“Mood’s changing. They’re worried out there, Max — maybe even scared. Look at the compound monitors.”
Dix turned from his monitor. “Yeah, we got little pockets of somethin’ or other, all over the place.”
Max and Mole went up and looked over his shoulder. Almost every camera showed cliques of transgenics around the compound. Three or four, sometimes six or eight to a group, they all just seemed to be talking among themselves.
“What are they jawin’ about, anyway?” Dix asked.
“They’re planning,” Max said. “In case we’re not.”
Mole puffed on his cigar. “Why? Don’t we have a plan for when the Army gets here?”
She wished she had a good answer to that; but all she could give him was: “I’m still hoping it won’t come to that.”
“Yeah, I’m kinda hopin’ my complexion clears up, too,” he said, rubbing his reptilian cheek. “But just in case our dreams don’t come true—” He waited for Max’s eyes to meet his. “—might also make sense to have a plan in place.”
Trouble was, there was no spin she could put on the notion of doing battle with the combined forces of the U.S. Army and National Guard within Terminal City that made it more palatable. “Tomorrow we’ll put our heads together on that.”
Sitting heavily on the edge of Dix’s desk, the lizard commando said, “Anything you say, Scarlett O’Hara.”
Not wanting to take this conversation any further, Max went back down the two stairs to the main floor. “Gotta check a couple of things. Be back.”
Mole waved absently and Dix sat forward, eyes on his monitor, all his concentration focused on watching the splinter groups.
Stepping out into the sunshine, Max walked aimlessly for a while, allowing herself some quiet time. As she passed the groups they had seen on the monitors just a few minutes ago, some of the transgenics looked up at her expectantly. She smiled and tried to exude a confidence she didn’t really feel. Most of them allowed her some space, but at the fourth group she passed, one of them — probably an X6, judging by the young man’s features — separated himself and approached her.